


There Every Step of the Way

by DuplexBeGreat



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Confessions, Heavily drawn from personal playthrough, M/M, Retelling of the canon game, Shield Version, hhh trainshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuplexBeGreat/pseuds/DuplexBeGreat
Summary: Hop is always there, all throughout Victor's journey. He's there when Victor needs him, and there when he doesn't. He's there when Victor doesn't know what to say to him, and, in the end, there when he finally figures it out.A personalized depiction of the main story and postgame of Pokémon Shield version, drawn from the moments that stood out to me most during my own playthrough.
Relationships: Hop/Masaru | Victor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	There Every Step of the Way

**Author's Note:**

> Giving life to a story—taking ideas from your head and, through words, giving them breadth and depth and meaning—is, I think, the most you can ever do to make that story real for yourself.
> 
> This fic is two things, for me. First, and most obviously, it's an actualization of a character relationship that I felt was so, so desperately close to the surface in the games themselves, needing just one extra push to become reality.
> 
> Second, it's a telling of some of the specific moments—specifically, some of the battles—from my actual playthrough of the game that stuck with me the hardest. These scenes aren't part of the story because they fit the first purpose or furthered the relationship, per se. They're in it because for me, they're irremovable parts of how I experienced Shield, and there was no question that I was going to make them real if I had the chance.

Hop is there when Victor catches his first Pokémon.

Victor knows he’s gripping the Poké Ball too tightly. He’s worried he’ll drop it, with how hard his palms are sweating. He’s worried the Wooloo might break out—Pokémon can do that, right? He’s worried he might _miss_ the fluffy creature entirely. Did trainers miss their Poké Balls? They never seemed to on TV. Why had no one warned him—?

A hand comes down on his shoulder and shakes him lightly.

“Vic,” Hop says, grinning, “You gotta _throw_ the ball for it to work, mate.”

Victor blinks and lets out a short, nervous sound that he hopes can be understood as a laugh. “I’m just waiting. Give me a second.”

Hop nods, but his grin doesn’t falter. “Waiting for what?” He motions in the Wooloo’s direction. The Pokémon is nibbling on grass just a few meters from where the two boys are standing, totally unfazed by their presence. It’s clearly not planning on changing things up any time soon.

Victor bites his lower lip. “For the right moment.”

Hop studies him for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is slightly less jocular. “You know, you don’t have to get a Wooloo if you don’t want to.”

“What?” Victor tears his eyes off the sheep Pokémon for the first time in minutes, turning around to face his friend, the surprise in his voice genuine. “You think I don’t want to be a trainer?”

The slightly taller boy holds up his hands defensively. “No, no, I’m sure you do! Just… you don’t have to catch a _Wooloo_ just ‘cause I’ve got one.”

Relief washes over Victor, and he sighs. “It’s got nothing to do with that,” he says, truthfully. “I’m not trying to copy you. I just want my first Pokémon to be a Wooloo, honest.”

“I mean, I’d understand,” Hop says, the smile returning to his face. “We’ve been best friends since we were, what, seven? Eight?”

“Seven.”

“Seven,” Hop affirms, “We’ve always done things together, and it’s a mite intimidating to be setting off on our own…”

“... But we’re thirteen now, we’re going to be Pokémon trainers, and we’re entering the Gym Challenge as rivals, not allies,” Victor finishes, a faint smile of his own forming. “I’m aware. Really, it’s not because of you.”

“That’s good, then. I’m glad.” Hop frowns and crosses his arms, burying them in the woolen fringe of his jacket. “So what’s with the hesitation?”

For a moment Victor is silent, already feeling himself grow hot under his polo as he imagines explaining the reason. Finally he stares at the ground and mumbles “... I’m afraid I’ll miss the ball.”

Hop doesn’t wait an instant. “Vic,” he asks, “Which of us has always been more physically coordinated?”

“Me,” the paler teen admits.

“And how many Poké Balls, total, did your mom give you to start out?”

Victor sighs. “Five, Hop.”

“So unless you’ve had an encounter with a Ghost-type that I don’t know about and been cursed with some _whacking_ bad luck—”

“I get it, already!” Victor snaps, spinning back to the grass and lobbing the ball as hard as he can at the Wooloo.

It hits the dead in the middle of the mass of soft wool, bouncing gently off and scooping the Pokémon up in a brilliant white flash.

Hop whistles. “Yeah, terrible aim, all right. You’d better practice before you get into any real battles, mate.”

Victor is about to kick him in his stupid shin before he realizes the ball is making a noise.

_Fzzp._

_Fzzp._

_Fzzp._

_Ding._

“YES!” Victor bursts out, before he can stop himself. The hesitation in his chest is completely gone, replaced in an instant with pure elation. He’d had no idea something as simple as throwing a Poké Ball could make him feel this incredible sense of accomplishment. He turns back to Hop, feeling a massive smile break out across his face.

The other boy’s eyes are shining too, his fists clenched in excitement. “You did it, Victor!” The warm air of Galar’s Route 1 seems to glow around them. Victor feels like he could become Champion right that moment, if he had to.

He walks over to where the ball’s landed and reaches down for it. Inside, he knows, is the woolly creature that’s just become his new friend—the first step on what he hopes will be a long and fantastic path.

Hop comes up beside him and places a hand on his shoulder again, peering eagerly at the Poké Ball as well. “Are you going to name it?”

“Henrietta,” Victor says happily, idly twisting one shoe into the dirt. The name had come to him, formed out of nothing in particular, during the last few minutes. “I’m going to call her Henrietta.”

“Victor and Henrietta,” Hop says. “Look out, Galar!” Then he nudges Victor gently with his elbow. “‘Course, you lot had better look out yourselves. I won’t go easy on you just ‘cause we’re friends!”

Victor slips the Poké Ball into his travel bag. “As if I’d let you.”

* * *

Hop is there when Victor wins their first battle.

“Wooloo, Tackle again!” Hop yells, jabbing his finger forward for emphasis.

“Henrietta, you use Tackle too!” Victor shouts. He extends his hand dramatically in the other Wooloo’s direction as he says this, more for his own enjoyment than any real need on Henrietta’s part. This is how the entire battle has gone: the two balls of soft wool charging at each other, dashing back apart after a relatively uneventful clash, then repeating.

Victor checks his phone. It’s been almost five whole minutes. He hasn’t stopped enjoying himself at all, though. After years of talking about the thing, he and Hop are finally having a Pokémon battle for real. He doesn’t even care if—well, okay, he did spend the entire afternoon since catching Henrietta training her against wild Pokémon and other trainers, but still, he _doesn’t_ care if he wins or loses. It’s enough that he’s enjoying the experience with Hop.

“Baaaa!” Henrietta draws back towards him, her bleat somehow sounding more uplifted than it had before. At first Victor has no idea why.

Then, shaking himself out of his head, he moves his gaze forward to see that Hop’s Wooloo is lying on its side, a dazed expression on its face and a dull whine coming out of its mouth.

“Henrietta!” he cheers, pride for his Pokémon and himself exploding in his chest. “Great job, girl!” The Wooloo baas happily, giving his leg a brief nuzzle. He rubs her head in return.

Across the small battlefield, Hop withdraws his fainted Pokémon into its ball, which he then tucks away into his bag somewhere. Victor locks eyes with his friend, the auburn late afternoon between them buzzing with excited tension. Off to the side, he vaguely notices Leon and Professor Magnolia clapping, but he keeps his gaze focused on his opponent.

“Brilliant, Vic!” Hop calls, golden eyes alight, “But unfortunately for you, I’ve caught myself another Pokémon!”

It only takes Victor and Henrietta another two minutes to down Hop’s Rookidee as well.

Again Victor reaches down to give his amazing Pokémon a well-earned pat on the head, before recalling her to her Poké Ball. Then, suddenly worried, he looks over at Hop. Losing two-on-one can’t feel great.

The other boy winces a bit as he recalls Rookidee into its ball, but the pained expression soon fades. Stowing the Poké Ball, Hop jogs across the field to stand in front of him, his face already returned to its normal cheeriness. “That was amazing, mate! Congrats!”

“Thanks,” Victor says, feeling his face grow hot. He rubs his knit cap, embarrassed. “You put up a good fight, too.”

Hop waves a hand at him dismissively. “Don’t worry about it! The sting of defeat and the joy of victory… going through both is the key to the two of us getting stronger, right?”

“Right,” Victor says. “It’s just our first battle, anyway.” He grins. “I’m looking forward to a lot more.”

Hop pumps his fist in the air. “You bet! I’m going to be Galar’s next unbeatable Champion. I won’t lose again!”

* * *

Victor isn’t there when Hop loses to Bede.

By the next time they see each other after that, right outside the gates of Hammerlocke on Route 6, Victor’s actually forgotten about their encounter with the white-haired arsehole entirely. He assumes Hop wants another battle, and he’s more than happy to take his friend on again, but mostly he’s occupied with the realization that the blasted wasteland stretching out in front of them is _extremely hot_ and wondering why in the world he had decided to put a new jacket on just before leaving the city.

So when Hop turns to him and says, with forced casualness, “See, Bede really wiped the floor with me the last time we battled,” Victor doesn’t have any idea how to respond, because he doesn’t know what Hop’s talking about. _Bede_ wiped the floor with someone? Since when? He’s strong, that’s for sure, but his Pokémon get torn apart by, like, _a_ Bug-type. Victor’s never had any difficulty getting him to shut up.

“And don’t get me wrong,” Hop continues, “I can take a loss! Battling means you’ve got to lose sometimes.” But his shoulders sag, and even though a default smile stays on his face, something in his eyes seems to dim.

Oh. Bede beat him back in the Wild Area, in the battle that Victor didn't stay to watch. He’s immediately regretting that decision. Maybe, he thinks, he could’ve cheered Hop on. Maybe that would’ve made the difference.

He reaches out a hand, not sure if he’s trying to pull Hop in for a hug or just pat him on the shoulder, only knowing that he needs to physically comfort his friend.

Hop doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s staring at the reddish dirt. “But he said that I was dragging Lee’s good name through the mud, being so rubbish like I was…” He raises his eyes again, and at the same moment Victor notices him clench his fists, shaking. “And I just can’t get those words out of my head!”

“Hop,” Victor tries, his own voice a lot less confident than he’d like, “Bede’s just an absolute arse. You shouldn’t listen to a word he says.”

The other boy doesn’t even seem to notice. “If I’m weak, then people’ll think Lee’s weak, too… But I don’t want that!” He turns away from Victor, pacing angrily into the Route 6 dust. “I can’t let Lee get dragged down! He’s the unbeatable Champion!

“I’m gonna have to take some time figuring this out.” There’s a note of determination in Hop’s tone now, but Victor isn’t sure he likes it. Hop still sounds… _angry_ , and not just in the ordinary pissed-off way he’d expect from someone who had a run-in with Bede.

“See you around, Vic.” And then he’s gone, before Victor can make himself grab Hop by the shoulders and tell him he’s a fantastic Pokémon trainer who shouldn’t care what a pompous twat thinks.

Victor wants to punch Bede right in the middle of his awful, smug face.

* * *

Victor and Hop are there together on the train a second time.

In some ways it’s exactly like the first train ride they took together, from Wedgehurst to the southern tip of the Wild Area. They’re sitting across from each other at a right-side window table, both engrossed more in pictures on their phones of the place they’re travelling to than in the scenery right outside the window. Victor’s tapping his foot absentmindedly, and he can feel Hop tapping in unison right across from him.

He resists the urge to start a kick war under the table. Because it’s _not_ the same as the train from Wedgehurst. They’re both as chipper as can be, but for different reasons than before. They’re not setting off from home for the first time, eager to see _anything_ that isn’t Postwick and Wedgehurst and the stretch of meadow between them. They’re not happy _by default_. Hop’s found his energy again, his mojo, after getting it slapped out of him by the dick in a purple trenchcoat. Victor can tell that his friend is more fired up about competing in the League now than ever before—not because he thinks he needs to prove something as Leon’s younger brother, but because he wants the Championship for himself.

Hop’s happy because he’s learned not to think of himself as just someone’s relative. And Victor… is happy because Hop’s happy, he realizes. He’s happy his best friend isn’t chasing victory for the wrong reasons. He’s happy that Hop’s started battling with his Dubwool again, because Henrietta missed having her own rival around. And he’s just happy to have an upbeat, energized Hop back to hang out with. Which is why he has to stop himself from kicking Hop’s feet underneath the table—because even though they’ve both seen their fourteenth birthdays during these last few months of the Gym Challenge, Victor sometimes feels plenty immature enough to want nothing more from his friend than to laugh themselves shitless over _absolutely nothing_.

The phone is suddenly slapped out of his hands. Victor looks up, equal parts startled and ready to grab Hop’s own phone in retaliation if they are, indeed, about to throw down like this—but the smile on the other boy’s face is genuine. It’s so genuine, so _bright_ that Victor feels pinned in place, utterly transfixed by the pure optimism radiating off his rival.

He’s so, so thankful to have Positive Hop back. And he wants to express this, to tell Hop how glad he is to have him around, but the words have been seared out of his throat by the other boy’s smile.

And, in any case, Hop is talking. “You get it, right?” He’s leaned across the table, one hand pumping a fist into the air, the other holding up his phone to show Victor a picture of Wyndon Stadium. “You and me are gonna make our match there the greatest match that ever was!”

Victor wants to say much more than just a simple agreement, he wants to shout his enthusiasm for the entire world to see, he wants to tell Hop that there’s no way he can possibly be looking forward to their match more than Victor already is, he wants to express _everything_ that he’s feeling about how much battling Hop—about how much _Hop_ —means to him.

But his throat is still charred, so he just smiles and nods and says, “For sure. I can’t wait, Hop.”

* * *

Victor is there when he crushes Hop’s dreams into the stadium field.

The Dynamaxed Rillaboom lets out a pained roar as a Max Flare sends its colossal form toppling. Almost, it seems like it’s going to stay on its feet… then it falls. And shrinks.

On the other side of the enormous field, Victor’s Centiskorch screeches in triumph, before it too emits a rose-colored flash and returns to normal proportions. But it, unlike Rillaboom, is still standing.

The crowd lets out a massive cheer.

Victor knows he should be happy, _thrilled_ , that he’s gotten one step closer to the Championship. But the deafening applause barely reaches his ears. His entire attention is focused a few meters away, straight ahead of him on the neatly-trimmed playing turf. He knows Hop well enough to be able to read his expression even at this distance.

It hits him _all_ at once. There’s no conflict from different emotions washing over his face, no eyes widening as he slowly accepts what’s happened. Hop sees his last Pokémon go down and he _winces_ , hard, exactly as though he’d been punched full on in the stomach. Eyes still closed, his shoulders begin to heave, and for just a moment Victor is _not_ sure at all that his best friend is not about to break down in front of all of Galar and he is _definitely_ not sure that he wouldn’t resign the entire tournament if that happened.

Hop swings his fist in front of his chest, putting all his regret into the motion, and Victor can see him curse under his breath at the same time, though it’s not even close to audible above the roar of the crowd. Then, slowly, his eyes open. He smiles.

Victor sees the smile and processes it immediately. It’s not big and it’s not toothy. It’s not a Hop smile. It doesn’t say “I’m going to be the greatest trainer in all of Galar, just you wait!” and it doesn’t have the boundless energy that held him captive on the train.

But it’s not a lie, either. It’s the smallest smile Victor’s ever seen on Hop’s face and he knows it’s just as genuine as the king-sized one he got the day before.

Hop is happy for him.

“Victor…” he says, his voice impossibly steady. “Thanks, mate. I’m really glad you were the one here with me.”

Hop is happy for him and Victor wants to throw himself down a deep, dark hole because of it.

* * *

Hop is there for Victor in the aftermath.

“—seen anything like that! You were unstoppable!”

Victor gives a small laugh and tries not to sound like a broken record. “Thanks, but you made me work for it, Hop. Really.”

They’re in the locker room and Hop’s bringing up all of Victor’s best plays, gushing about them in so much detail that Victor would almost think he’s already seen a recording of the battle on his phone. But he knows the truth is much simpler than that: Hop won’t ever forget this match. Neither of them will.

“And my Dubwool didn’t stand a chance! Henrietta _smashed_ him, mate!”

“It was close, between the two of them,” Victor demurres, wishing he sounded more convincing. “I wasn’t sure she’d pull ahead at all.”

Hop, unfazed, starts to move on to how awesome Victor’s Arctovish looked as it tore into his Snorlax with Fishious Rend, and Victor, giving up, lets him. He finds it strangely easy to keep up a steady stream of generic, affirmative grunts and noncommittal responses as the two of them change out of their Gym Challenge uniforms.

It’s as if Hop is bragging, Victor thinks as he pulls off his shirt. Hop’s talking about the match with as much enthusiasm as if he was the winner.

He realizes this might be the way his friend is coping with the loss, and wonders if he should talk to him about it. But the thought of broaching the subject here, now, in the locker room not fifteen minutes after the battle has ended, makes his stomach flip like a rolling Wooloo.

Victor puts on his red polo—the sporty one with a Centiskorch-styled logo emblazoned in the center, the one that’s become his signature look—keeps making agreeable noises, and promises himself he’ll bring it up with Hop later. Soon. At least… before the match with Leon, he swears.

When they get back to the hotel there’s a reporter ready to pounce not five steps into the lobby. “Challenger Victor!” She’s got the camera guy straight up in his face. “How does it feel to have defeated your rival?”

His rival is standing _right next to him_ and Victor feels like he’s kicked him in the nuts and gotten away with it. His mouth returns to the same autopilot from the locker room. “I’m glad I could beat him,” he says, hoping the camera’s focused on his face and can’t see one hand toying nervously with the hem of his polo. “There’s no one I could’ve asked for a better semifinal match.”

God, he wishes he had the words to express just how much of a _bloody_ understatement that is. But not for the TV, and not smack in the middle of the city and all its people, the way it’s been nonstop since they got to Wyndon. Back in Postwick, Victor thinks, or maybe out in the Wild Area with no one around except the two of them. Maybe then he’d know how to tell Hop how much he enjoys their battles.

The microphone jabs forward again and it’s like the reporter somehow knows exactly what question he doesn’t want to be asked. “If you wanted to tell Challenger Hop something right now, what would it be?”

Victor knows that his face is seconds from matching his Centiskorch polo in hue. He can’t stand to look at the camera or the mic an instant longer; he turns away—and, of course, his gaze catches right on Hop. He let his eyes linger; his friend is the only thing in the room right now that feels safe. He takes in the perennial smile, currently half amusement at the paparazzi and half honest encouragement for Victor’s attempts to answer them. He traces his gaze over the warm caramel skin and the deep plum hair that, unlike Leon’s, has so far refused to lighten into an honest-to-god purple. He holds onto the gold, gold eyes and searches within them for an answer.

What does he want to say to Hop? He wants to say _sorry_ , wants to know how the other boy can even stand to look at him right now, wants to explain that he knows the Championship had been Hop’s dream since _forever_ while Victor just found himself _doing_ it because it’s what Hop was doing.

But Hop’s golden eyes are gleaming just as truthfully as ever, and Victor knows that he’s being selfish. Hop isn’t asking for an apology, but Victor wants to give him one anyway. It’s his own guilt he’s trying to beat down, not Hop’s sadness.

And Hop doesn’t keep things bottled up for long. When he’s ready to talk about his loss in the stadium, Victor knows, he will. Heaping pity onto him before he’s ready for that would be a much worse thing to do to him, as a friend, than defeating him in a Pokémon battle on national television ever could be.

Victor turns back to the reporter—she’s only been waiting a few seconds, he realizes, not the hour he felt lapse while he sheltered in Hop’s gaze—and prepares another easy soundbite for her. Right as he opens his mouth, though, Hop steps forward, planting himself firmly between Victor and the camera.

“Alright, that’s enough!” his friend declares. “Victor’s already tired from our battle, and you’ve been asking rather rude questions! We’ve got ourselves dinner plans with my brother, so, sorry, but _clear off_ , would you?”

Victor wants to hug him.

The reporter scurries away with a hasty apology, or possibly a wish for his good luck in the battle tomorrow, but Victor’s stopped paying attention. In front of him, Hop’s placed his hands on his hips and is grinning like a Perrserker. “You’re welcome!”

“ _Thank_ you,” Victor says, seriously. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

Hop sags his shoulders and slumps in mock exhaustion. “Famous people sure have it rough, eh?”

Later that night, in a turn of events Victor still isn’t fully sure he understands, the two of them break into Rose Tower together and fight their way past all the employees, all because Leon is late to their dinner.

The trip to the tower’s peak passes mostly in a blur for him—none of the opposing trainers present him and Hop with anything resembling a challenge, and the fact that the entire journey takes place in a single massive elevator shaft with uniformly dun walls certainly doesn’t add to its memorability. But the one thing Victor knows he’ll remember is the ease and solidarity he feels, taking on the building with Hop.

It’s the complete opposite of their heated battle at the stadium earlier that day. Barring the security cameras, they don’t have an audience. Far from a climactic showdown between two skilled rivals, their bouts with the Macro Cosmos personnel are embarrassingly one-sided takedowns. There’s _zero_ tension in the sterile, air-conditioned atmosphere—and that’s why Victor feels so content. After their League match, he’s glad for some more relaxed battles. He’s happy he and Hop are on the same side this time.

* * *

Hop is there when Victor needs him most.

They’re standing atop Hammerlocke Stadium, and around them the storm rages.

The sky has vanished in an instant, locked behind an impenetrable layer of dark clouds, which glow purple with some evil power. Gales howl at them from every direction, so loud Victor can barely hear himself think. Debris from the shattered ancient battlements swirls hazardously above their heads; twice Victor has to dodge sharply to the side to avoid a potentially fatal bludgeon as more and more detritus is ripped off the castle roof by the maelstrom.

Flashes of pink lightning split through the clouds every few seconds, and in the afterimages their glares leave behind, Victor sees places he’s been, places too impossibly far from here to feel as though they could ever be affected by this cataclysm. Hulbury, Stow-on-Side. Motostoke, the Professor’s house on Route 2. Postwick.

But they’re not nearly far enough away to be safe, and he knows it’s not just his imagination conjuring them up in the storm. All of Galar—possibly the entire world—is threatened by the nightmare unfolding in front of him, and the same power that’s illuminating these scenes in the sky is the one that could bring devastation to them all in mere moments.

It hovers in front of him and Hop, indigo and scarlet and glowing freakishly, gargantuan and monstrous beyond belief, its bulk disappearing ominously into the depths of the storm. Coiled tightly around itself like a hellish perversion of a bird’s nest, it simmers with a malicious intent that he can _feel_ through the air. At the center of the twisting mass is a pulsing sphere of pink energy. At the front of it all, the tangle unwinds and thrusts outwards in the shape of a massive hand—a massive _claw_ , reaching inexorably forward to _rend_ them.

It is Eternatus, and it _is_ the hellfire about to engulf them.

Off to the side, cast against the ramparts by the tempest, lies Leon. He’s been unconscious since before the chaos-bringer even rose into the sky: Eternatus defeated the Unbeatable Champion while still in its dragon form, using only a fraction of its power.

Victor and Hop stand alone against the apocalypse.

And there is _nothing_ they can do to stop it. “Icicle Crash!” Victor yells; from the right side of the roof his Arctovish unleashes the most powerful attack his team can bring to bear against—he assumes—a Dragon-type. Spikes of ice harden out of the air and slam straight into the front of Eternatus’s enormous single appendage. The monstrosity shrugs it off, completely unharmed.

This is how the entire battle has gone: two trainers in way, way over their heads, desperately trying to make a stand against a primeval force on the verge of consuming everything and everyone they’ve ever known. Failing utterly.

Victor watches as his Pokémon loose another token round at the monster. Arctovish’s fangs glow purple and it bites, hard, into one of the claw’s talons. Rapidash’s horn shines white and it launches one, two, three slices of pure psychic power at the same spot. Eternatus doesn’t flinch. Over on the roof’s left, Hop’s Snorlax is glowing a deep orange and ramming its full body into the claw while his Corviknight darts in for a precision Drill Peck. No change.

Slowly, the worry and fear in Victor’s gut broaden into full-on despair. It’s hopeless. He should’ve _known_ it was hopeless from the moment Eternatus broke free of Leon’s Poké Ball and tossed the Champion aside like a marionette. If the strongest trainer in all of Galar and his ultimate team couldn’t stop this nightmare, what chance do two fourteen year-old kids have?

Shaking, he grabs his Poké Balls and recalls his team. There is _nothing_ the two of them can do here but get themselves hurt—get themselves _killed_. He doesn’t know if there’s anywhere safe to run, but he knows running’s the only chance they have.

He runs through the maelstrom to Hop’s side. “Hop!” he yells, registering without surprise the rising panic in his own voice. “We have to go!”

“Vic?” His friend’s expression is scared, but resolute. “Have you lost it? We’re the only ones here. We’ve got to—”

“We _can’t_ , Hop!” Victor practically screams. He can feel himself shaking now, and not from the fierce winds. “This isn’t a pair of Macro Cosmos flunkies in an elevator! It’s not the semifinals at the League tournament!” He fights back tears. “This isn’t a _game_ , Hop! Our Pokém— _we_ don’t stand a chance against this thing! We need to grab Leon and run or we’re going to _die_!”

At his words, Hop’s eyes widen, and for a moment Victor sees his own terror written across his best friend’s face. But then Hop seems to steel himself and the fear is gone, replaced by stubborn determination. “No. I’m not giving up. Lee’s down, Victor. It’s up to us to stop the Darkest Day.”

“How?” Victor begs. “What can we do that we haven’t already tried?”

Hop is already reaching back into his bag, digging out something long, dull, and rusted. “They were just sitting there at the shrine, right? We might as well use them.”

It’s the old, broken sword from the Slumbering Weald. Victor stares at it in disbelief. Amidst the whirling chaos of the rooftop, the thing looks even more decrepit than when they came upon it in the deep forest. “You can’t possibly—” he tries to say.

Hop beckons to him. “Give me the shield, Vic. I’ll see what I can do with them. You—” His voice breaks off, but only for a moment. “You take Lee and get out of here.”

“ _No._ ” Victor feels his entire self _kick_ out in absolute refusal as he hears Hop’s words. “Not a chance in hell. You’re _not_ going to stay here by yourself and wave a bloody rusted sword and shield at the end of the world.”

His friend shakes his head persistently. “I’m just going to keep it occupied. You get Lee somewhere safe and find Raihan. He’ll round up the Gym Leaders and any other strong trainers in the city, and they’ll be able to—”

“Shut UP!” Victor yells. His fists are clenched and his whole body is trembling, not just with fear but with rage at what Hop is saying. “I’m not going to leave you here alone, dammit! I’m not going to let you get yourself k—” He hears his voice snap in a pitched, strangled cry.

He looks up, up into the swirling morass of the storm, trying to keep the tears that have suddenly appeared in his eyes from falling. It’s a failed effort, and he squeezes his eyelids shut, barely registering the salty sting. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

Hop doesn’t respond. Or, if he does, Victor can’t hear it over the raging tempest. Slowly, he manages to pry his eyes back open, lowering his gaze again to meet Hop’s.

And he doesn’t understand.

Hop’s eyes pierce through the storm with golden resolve. There’s no fire in them, no hunger to win, only a steadfast surety. He hasn’t given up hope because he knows all hope is not yet lost. He _is_ the eye of the hurricane, and he knows they can win this.

“How…?” Victor says, softly. How is this the same Hop who drove himself into a depressive rut after he lost to Bede? How is it the same Hop who thought he needed to remove his most beloved Pokémon from his team in order to become a stronger trainer? How is it that between the two of them, the one who beat the other in an official League match is barely able to hold himself together, while the one who lost in front of all of Galar is able to keep up a brave face? “How are you sure this isn’t the end?”

A smile appears on Hop’s face. Victor stares at it, takes it in and measures it against every smile he’s ever seen his best friend give, from age seven to the semifinal match, from Postwick to Wyndon.

Hop reaches out his hand. “Because I’ve got you with me, Vic.”

The storm’s fury seems to fade away as he hears Hop’s words. He knows Hop is telling the truth. Together, they can do anything.

Victor takes Hop’s right hand in his left and draws the shield from his bag.

At the sight of it, Eternatus seems to quake with rage, its claw drawing forward towards the two boys more forcefully than ever before. Victor braces himself, grips Hop’s hand as tight as he can, and makes himself hold on to the tiny pinprick of hope nestled within his chest.

Twin rays of light break through the storm barrier from behind the creature, lancing past Eternatus’s coiled bulk and touching down on the rooftop just in front of its claw. The monster recoils, and Victor and Hop stare in awe as the lights resolve themselves into physical form: Two wolves, majestic and battle-scarred, one red and one blue.

Zamazenta and Zacian. Galar’s Legendary Pokémon.

The wolves tip back their heads and let out a simultaneous howl, eerie in its power and beautiful in its solemnity. Victor feels a tug on his right hand and gasps, startled, as the rusted old shield begins to glow a deep red. Bidden by an unseen force, it rises into the air and slips free of his grasp. He looks over at Hop, still linking hands with him, and sees that the sword has risen as well, its aura a brilliant blue.

Hovering above the boys’ heads, the ancient artifacts seem to quiver for a moment before violently slamming together, the sword fusing to the shield’s front plate. The collision releases a shockwave across the roof, and a globe of blinding energy forms around the combined weapon. Struggling to stay on his feet, Victor turns his head towards Hop again. The two boys lock eyes and hold tight to each other as the energy erupts. Despite the tumult, Victor feels utterly secure, drawing more strength than he would have thought possible from the feeling of Hop’s hand clutched safely around his.

Drawn to its destined source, the energy streams forward from the artifacts to envelop both of the wolves, cocooning each inside a glowing forcefield. Within seconds the transfer is complete, and the fields spring into the air, the Pokémon inside completely obscured.

Slowly, the glows fade, and from inside the chrysalides the two wolves leap forth, landing resolutely on the stage between the boys and Eternatus. Their scars have been wiped cleanly away, their heads are crested with gold helms, and they brim with even more power than just moments before. Zacian, standing in front of Hop, carries a giant golden sword in its maw, and Zamazenta, in front of Victor, bears golden armoring resembling a massive shield in its mane.

Again the Legendary Pokémon sound a roar of challenge, and from their bodies red and blue light spreads across the rooftop. Eternatus writhes in discomfort, and though he doesn’t know how, Victor can see that something in it has changed, as though its might has been shaken.

It’s vulnerable.

Hop squeezes his hand, and Victor gazes with wonder at his incredible friend. Together, facing down the apocalypse with the beasts of legend, Victor finally understands. Hop isn’t jealous of him for winning in the semifinals. He didn’t need a coping mechanism. He doesn’t need an apology for anything. Hop is happy because Victor is happy and that’s _enough_.

He squeezes Hop’s hand back and reaches for a Poké Ball. Hop sends out his Dubwool. Victor sends out Henrietta.

Together they save the world.

* * *

Hop is there the next day, somewhere in the stands.

The battle’s reached its fever pitch. Five of Leon’s Pokémon are down, but Victor knows they were just the warm-up act. And he knows that the crowd knows it too. As Leon reaches back and throws his last Poké Ball onto the field, the cheering stops momentarily as they wait with bated breath for the main event to emerge.

Charizard flares into the stadium, and the crowd thunders its approval. Victor smiles. He’s been waiting a long time to take this one down.

Leon channels the spotlight with all the perfected practice of his years as Champion. “I’ll show you what Charizard can really do!” he declares with a flourish. “It’s Dynamax time!”

The Champion stretches out his arm, temporarily recalling Charizard back to its ball. Victor matches his timing, doing the same with Arctovish. He can feel sweat running down his back underneath the Gym Challenger jersey—but from anticipation, not fear. The entire Gym Challenge has been leading up to this moment. Calmly, he taps the Poké Ball to the Dynamax Band on his wrist. Jets of pink energy—Eternatus’s energy, Victor knows now—stream out of it and into the ball, which more than triples in diameter, glowing a radiant pink itself.

Still keeping pace, he and Leon turn around and heave the enlarged Poké Balls in opposite directions, towards the ends of the stadium field. Victor throws his two-handed over his head; Leon, maintaining his athletic stardom, chucks his with a powerful swing of his right arm.

From both sides of the stadium the dark pink storm clouds begin to form, their energies pulsing downwards in thick mists that hide the Pokémon from view for a few moments. Victor watches as, within, the silhouette of his misshapen fish grows to titanic proportions. Then, as one, Arctovish and Charizard finish their transformations and burst back out onto the pitch, their cries tremendously deep.

The crowd is ecstatic. Victor turns back towards Leon, savoring the moment as they both prepare to unleash unstoppable attacks. Almost in slow-motion, he sees the Champion fling out his right arm in a command, and in turn Victor gestures forward with his left. Both of them open their mouths.

“Charizard, Max Rockfall!” hollers Leon.

“Arctovish! Max Geyser!” Victor yells.

Charizard moves first, instantly summoning a massive slab of packed stone out of the stadium field. It towers even above the Pokémon themselves, and, wobbling, begins to careen dangerously down on top of Arctovish.

The hopelessly misaligned Pokémon is already forming its own attack, an enormous pool of water swirling around inside its gaping jaws. It launches the volume across the field in a single powerful jet just before the wall of rock crashes down on it.

Victor watches as his Pokémon takes the full force of the attack, its partial Ice typing making it weak to Rock-type moves. Despite its confused origins, Arctovish is extraordinarily bulky; he’s seen it shrug off powerful hits many times before. Still, Victor feels, it’s only natural to be cautious, given the circumstances—this _is_ the Champion they’re facing, and Arctovish already took a serious hit from his Haxorus earlier in the match, before dispatching it with a deadly Icicle Crash.

The Rockfall throws particles of dust into the air as it crumbles; Victor has to shield his eyes to see through the sandstorm. From what he can tell, though, Arctovish holds on. It’s hurt—badly—but it’s definitely still standing… well, so to speak. It’s floating.

Gratified, Victor turns back to Charizard in time to see the match-winning move make impact. The blast of water slams full-on into the fiery dragon, which stumbles backwards with a roar. Already the sand being tossed around the battlefield has dissipated, washed away by the heavy rain that’s now falling, summoned by Arctovish’s attack. His short brown hair plastered to his scalp by the deluge, Victor watches with pride as Charizard falters. The most famous Pokémon in Galar has finally met its match in the form of Victor’s most powerful team member. He waits for the dragon to collapse, for his victory to be complete. Charizard’s wings droop and its eyes close.

Then they snap back open, burning with rage.

Stunned, Victor takes a step back as the crowd lets out its most deafening roar yet. Charizard is on the brink of defeat, far more badly injured by Arctovish’s move than Arctovish was by its own. Even the most feeble attack could take it down right now, he’s _sure_ of it. _But it’s still standing_.

Leon hasn’t lost yet.

“Arctovish—” Victor begins, desperately, but Leon gets there first.

“Charizard!” the Champion roars, matching the crowd’s energy. “Max Overgrowth!”

Arctovish narrows its wide-set eyes, sensing the magnitude of the moment just as its trainer does. It opens its jaws to finish its foe off with a second attack—

Four giant seed pods, generated from Charizard’s mouth, fly across the battlefield and slam into Victor’s Pokémon. As they hit the ground, they burst open, giving birth to a variety of equally giant plants of various shapes. The wild growths buffet Arctovish, hitting it from all sides with stalks and stray leaves. From the impact site, soft grass grows across the battlefield, overlapping with the astroturf at random.

The fossil Pokémon shivers, its upward-facing jaws letting out an eerie groan. Then it crashes to the ground. Dynamax energy explodes off it in waves as it shrinks, defeated, down to its normal size.

Victor closes his eyes, feeling his heart hammering against his chest as he withdraws Arctovish into its ball. He forces himself to block out the clamor of the crowd. The situation is dire: Leon’s Charizard, in Dynamax form, is more than powerful enough to take out any of Victor’s other Pokémon in a single hit, especially with his entire team already weakened from the battle so far. Without his own Dynamax Pokémon, there’s nothing Victor can do to land the last blow needed to take Leon down.

But he manages to slow his panicked breathing, and he remembers facing Eternatus just the day before. _That_ situation felt hopeless—the end of the world—and he and Hop still won. Compared to that, Victor thinks, what’s a tournament finals match with the Champion? He _can_ win this. He just has to find a way. He opens his eyes and stares at his right hand, wrapped in his uniform’s white-and-blue sport glove, soaked through by the rain summoned by Max Geyser.

The rain that’s still falling onto the pitch.

The path forward immediately becomes clear to him, and, standing in the middle of Wyndon Stadium, Victor _laughs_. It’s perfect.

He throws a Poké Ball forward. There was no other way this could have ended.

“BAAAAAA!” Henrietta springs forward onto the field, determinedly facing down the colossal Charizard with every ounce of her fluffy, round body.

Victor narrows his eyes, widens his mouth into a devilish grin, and locks eyes across the stadium with his opponent. “This is it, Leon!” he announces, pride and love for his Pokémon brimming through his voice. “You’re going down!”

Henrietta’s thick, fluffy wool has made the difference in countless battles before. Acting as a physical barrier, it’s allowed his beloved first Pokémon to shrug off hard-hitting attacks that would’ve toppled even Arctovish. It’s her greatest strength—but also her greatest weakness. Under any other circumstances, Victor knows, that all-too-easily-ignited wool makes Henrietta vulnerable to Fire-type moves. He had to keep her in the back seat when he took on the Fire-type Motostoke Gym; a Pokémon as powerful as Leon’s Charizard would be able to take her down in an instant.

But with the torrential rain pouring down across the entire stadium, any Fire-type attacks lose their potency. Which means the only hope Charizard has of defeating Henrietta before she can land the finishing blow is to take advantage of the grassy terrain already created by its previous Max Overgrowth. A second, powered-up Grass-type attack is the only chance Leon has here—and it’s a slim one, Victor knows.

And from the slowly-dawning horror on Leon’s face, he can see that the Champion knows it too.

“LET’S DO THIS, HENRIETTA!” Victor shouts, putting everything he has into the words. “BODY SLAM!”

“CHARIZARD!” Leon orders, panic streaking through the command. “MAX OVERGROWTH!”

Lowering her head, Henrietta charges forward, straight at the towering, fiery creature in front of her. She runs through the rain, her wool soaked and heavy. She runs with the eyes of the entire world on her.

Halfway there, Charizard launches its barrage. The seed pods hit dead-on, sending forth another assortment of enormous plantlife. The grass-covered field is definitely making a difference, Victor can tell. The plants are even larger this time, generating even more arrays of branches and vines to strike at his Pokémon.

Henrietta takes the hit and presses on. It’s not for nothing that Leon’s Charizard is the star of his team—Victor can see that even this attack, far weaker than a Fire-type move in more favorable weather would be, nearly brings his precious sheep to the brink of collapse. She slows down. But she doesn’t stop.

There’s only a short distance left between Henrietta and her target. She crosses it and hurls herself with all her might into Charizard’s massive stomach.

Again the dragon stumbles. Again its wings droop. All at once, a universal hush falls upon the stadium as they wait for the outcome to be made clear.

Charizard’s eyes shut. This time, they don’t open.

It lets out a low roar and falls over, crashing onto the field.

Before Victor can even process it, the crowd is screaming so loudly he’s afraid his ears will implode. Before he can even process it, Charizard is shrinking down, releasing its Dynamax energy, and Leon is recalling it into its Poké Ball. Before he can even process it Henrietta is at his side again, bleating happily and nuzzling him with her forehead. He laughs and pats her side, more proud of her than words can say.

Before he can form a coherent thought, Hop is running towards him across the field, having leapt over the railing from the lowest level of the stands. A warm feeling blossoms in Victor’s chest, more than counteracting the chill from the falling rain. A giant, open smile forms on his face, and he reaches out his arms as Hop draws near.

His friend falls straight into the hug and wraps his arms around Victor in return, clinging to him like there’s no one else in the stadium. And Victor doesn’t care about the crowd, he doesn’t care about Leon, all he needs is the feeling of Hop’s warm embrace.

They hold on for a moment longer, completely drenched and not minding it at all. Then Hop pulls back, drawing his hands up to rest on Victor’s shoulders and beaming at him. “You did it, mate. You really did it!”

Victor smiles nervously, totally unsure how to accept Hop’s congratulations without sounding conceited as all hell. “Yeah.” He feels himself blush furiously. _This_ is the first thing he says as Champion.

Hop laughs at his uncertainty, then tips his head towards Leon with a knowing smile. “Come on. Let’s get this done with so we can go home and celebrate.”

Enthusiastically, Victor nods his agreement. He lets go of Hop and walks across the field, ready for Leon to introduce him as Galar’s new Champion.

* * *

Hop is there, somehow, when Victor visits the Slumbering Weald the day after that.

Victor spots him as he approaches the ancient shrine at the forest’s center. Hop is facing the ruins, but at the sound of Victor’s footsteps, he turns around, his expression delighted with surprise. “Huh? Victor! What're you doing here?”

Victor’s cheeks redden as he answers. “I could ask you the same thing!”

Hop frowns, an unusually solemn look coming over his face. “I’m… not quite sure, to be honest.” He crosses his arms. “I just woke up this morning and felt like this was the place to be. You know what I mean?”

“I do, actually,” Victor says, shocked. The same unexplained need had been in his head from the moment he’d awoken in his bed in Postwick, earlier in the morning than he’d expected after the post-Championship festivities the prior night. “It’s like something was calling me here.”

Hop blinks, eyes wide. “Vic, that’s pretty uncanny.” He unfolds his arms and gazes around the glen, as if deep in thought. “It’s so quiet here, you know? No one ever comes here.”

Something in his words catches in Victor’s mind. He can feel the stillness of the forest enveloping them—he can _feel_ that there’s no one around but the two of them. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He has no idea what it is he wants to say.

Noticing his uncertainty, Hop shrugs, as if declaring the topic dropped. His mouth spreads wide in a cheerful grin. “Oh, but I haven’t gotten to say it yet today! Congrats again on your victory, Victor!”

Victor stares at him.

“You know—because—”

“I get it, Hop,” Victor groans, hanging his head. “It sounds like my name.”

“Almost like it was destined you’d win,” Hop says, his tone relaxed again. “Honestly, Vic… I never thought anyone would manage to beat Lee. The greatest Champion Galar ever had! He was undefeatable ‘till you came around! It’s actually still pretty hard to believe…”

“Yeah. It is,” Victor admits, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I don’t… _feel_ like I’m the Champion. I don’t know what that’s supposed to feel like.”

“I think it just feels like _you_ , mate,” Hop says seriously. “Whatever you decide to do, that’ll be what the Champion’s supposed to be doing.” After a moment, he adds, “Really… you’re amazing, Victor.”

“What?” Victor’s face _ignites_ at Hop’s words. “Quit that!”

But Hop’s expression is pure earnestness now. “No, I’m serious! So amazing, maybe, that I don’t even realize just how amazing you really are!”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Victor insists, staring at the ground.

When he raises his head again, Hop’s gaze bores straight into him. “But I _want_ to, Victor.”

The stillness returns.

Again, Victor needs to say something, but he doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t think Hop does, either.

Slowly, Hop turns around, so that he’s facing the shrine again. When he speaks, his voice seems carefully controlled. “Victor, do you think…” He wavers, then: “Would you be up for one more battle?”

“S-Sure,” Victor stutters, taken aback. A battle? He’s not lying, he’d love to have one, but he doesn’t know why Hop’s proposing it right now. Maybe, he thinks, it was the closest thing his friend could come up with to the unspoken question plaguing both their minds.

Hop turns back towards him, and he’s all smiles again. “Thanks, Victor!” Whatever trepidation they’d both been feeling has been paused for now. “Then show me the strength that defeated Lee!” He folds his arms and takes up a ready stance.

Eagerly, Victor reaches for a Poké Ball. Between them, the morning passes easily.

* * *

In the chaos of the day that follows, hurrying back and forth across the region to quell rampaging Dynamax Pokémon, Victor almost forgets that the morning started off with just him and Hop at the shrine. Just when it seems the crisis has finally ended, though, Hop calls his phone, informing him that he’s chased the crazed Zacian all the way back to the Slumbering Weald, and to please hurry over.

By the time Victor nears the shrine again, twilight has set in. He’s still a little ways off when he realizes he can hear Zacian’s cries emanating from the deepest part of the wood—not the proud howls the Legendary wolves made when challenging Eternatus, but sounds of pain and anger, twisted by madness. He picks up the pace and runs the last stretch to the forest shrine, worried for Hop.

He arrives to see Hop and the bright blue wolf facing each other down in front of the shrine, a short distance apart from one another. Hop has his hands raised in a calming gesture. “There, there…” he murmurs, his voice low. “Everything’s all right…”

Zacian doesn’t seem to be listening at all. Its scarred body is quivering—with what, fear or anger or some combination of both, Victor can’t tell—and its front paws are scraping at the ground aggressively. Its eyes gleam a sickly yellow. It’s clearly still possessed by the same madness that overtook it atop Hammerlocke Stadium a few hours ago.

Victor takes a step towards them, reaching towards his bag for a Poké Ball in case the Legendary attacks. But Hop spots him approaching and immediately flings out his right arm in a clear signal: _Stay back_. Despite his misgivings, Victor respects his friend’s wishes and doesn’t move any closer. He keeps one hand closed around Rapidash’s Poké Ball, though.

Zacian, its dull gaze focused directly on Hop, issues another pained growl. Unflinching, Hop takes another small step towards it. “You’re not going to lose control,” he says softly. “You can manage this. I know you can! You’re one of the heroes who protected Galar!”

The wolf seems to pause, its shaking subsiding slightly. Spurred on, Hop moves directly in front of it, and, slowly, rests a hand on its muzzle. Zacian takes in a deep breath, then exhales it with a rasp. The glow in its eyes fades.

It tilts its head backwards and lets out a brisk, happy bark.

Hop smiles. “See? I knew you could do it, champ!”

Victor feels the tension in his shoulders dissipate, and he releases his grip on the Poké Ball, sighing with relief. At the sound, Hop turns around, as if fully registering his presence for the first time. “Victor! You made it!”

Victor shakes his head, amused. “Yeah, but it doesn’t look like you really needed me, huh?” He nods towards Zacian. “That was… that was really impressive, Hop. It looks happy now.”

His friend grins. “Thanks, Vic. It does, doesn’t it?”

From behind him, Zacian makes a strange, shrill cry. Victor tenses up again, but the expression that comes over Hop’s face is one of awe. He turns slowly back towards the Legendary.

“What?” Victor asks urgently. “Hop, what is it?”

“Are you sure about this?” Hop whispers, trembling with excitement.

“Hop, what did it _say_?” Victor insists.

Hop faces him again, his smile widening slowly. “It thinks I’m worthy. It wants to become my Pokémon, Vic.” Then he lets out a small laugh. “At least, I’m pretty sure that was it!”

“Seriously?” Victor stares at the wolf. “That’s fantastic, Hop!”

Hop glances at Zacian again. “If you’re ready, then…” He takes a few steps back and produces an empty Poké Ball. “Here I go!”

Zacian nods its approval, and Hop tosses the ball expertly, yelling “Hyah!” as he does. Despite the solemnity of the situation, Victor can’t help but quirk an amused smile at his friend’s juvenile cry.

The ball strikes just above Zacian’s brow and absorbs it with the customary flash. As it hits the ground, neither boy dares to breathe.

_Fzzp._

_Fzzp._

_Fzzp._

_Ding._

Hop pumps a fist into the air. “Yes! YES!!” He dashes over to the ball and grabs it, staring at the shiny metal surface for a moment before tucking it away inside his bag.

Then he turns back to Victor again. “Well, mate? What do you think?”

The words spill out of his mouth at once. “Hop, you’re amazing.”

“What?” Hop laughs. “Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”

“It’s not sudden at all!” Victor insists, though he’s not sure either why he’s saying this now. Warmth rushes to his face as he continues. “You’ve just calmed down one of the legendary heroes of Galar. I’ve never heard of anything like that!” He fidgets, kicking absentmindedly at the dirt. “It’s… it’s like you said to me this morning. You’re so amazing that I’m not sure I realize how amazing you really are.”

Hop blushes too, his smile vanishing. “Aw, but you’re the Champion, Vic. I’m just me. It’s different.”

“It’s not,” Victor presses. He takes a few steps forward. “You gave me an incredible match in the tournament, Hop. You were with me _every step_ of the journey there. We stopped Eternatus _together_. You’re every bit the trainer I am and then some.” He forces himself to crack a small smile. “And you complimented me this morning. You have to let me compliment you back. It’s only fair.”

Hop places his left hand on his hip, relaxing. “I still don't quite see anything like that in myself yet…” He smiles. “But maybe I’m starting to, thanks to you. I know what you mean, Victor. So… thank you.”

An idea seems to come over him, and his grin widens again. “Let’s finish the day the way we started it!” He spins back to the shrine, running up the stone path until he’s standing right in front of the carved epigraph. He faces Victor again, crossing his arms dramatically. “Battle me one more time!”

Victor feels his heart pounding. “Always, Hop.”

He grabs a Poké Ball, then glances up to see Hop’s done the same. They nod in understanding: They’re going to start this off properly, the way they always have. As one, they throw their Poké Balls forward.

Two Dubwool spring into the forest glade, bleating well-worn challenges at each other.

Victor’s heart swells with happiness. “Here we go, Henrietta! Body Press!”

“Dubwool!” Hop shouts, elation in his voice too. “Double-Edge!”

The night draws on.

Rillaboom faints, and Hop withdraws it into its ball, chuckling to himself. Centiskorch gives its head a faint wag from side to side in triumph. Hop has just one Pokémon left.

Sweat rolls down Victor’s forehead. He’s breathing more heavily than in even the finals match with Leon. Not because this battle is more intense—it’s no different than any of the many times he and Hop have fought before. It’s just a feeling he has. Right now, this battle is _everything_ in the world. He wonders if Hop can sense it too.

Hop pauses before throwing his last ball forward. “I want to see which of us comes out the winner, and yet I also don't ever want this battle to end…” He smiles. “That's the kind of strange feeling I'm having! You feel it, too, don't you, Victor?”

Victor’s mouth is dry. He feels that _exactly_. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” He almost wishes he could go on battling Hop like this forever. But winning is part of what makes those battles fun, and he desperately wants to win. “There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing right now than battling with you.”

His best friend’s smile grows even wider. “I knew you must! It’s kind of embarrassing, but I’m glad it’s not just me!” He grabs the last Poké Ball. “Right then!” A hunger enters his eyes. “Laugh or cry all you want, but this is it! This is the end!” He throws it.

Zacian thunders back into the forest, its gleaming helm and sword restored once more. It spies Centiskorch and lets out a howl of challenge, gripping the sword tightly between its jaws.

Hop makes the first move. “Zacian! Use Swords Dance!”

“Fire Lash, Centiskorch!” Victor shouts. Already Zacian has begun a series of quick back-and-forth movements to amplify its attack power, its paws stamping on the forest floor, the sword in its mouth darting from side to side. Centiskorch scuttles towards it on its many legs, rearing up on its back end in order to strike with its front.

The Bug-type launches its attack just as Zacian’s dance ends. Centiskorch flings the entire front half of its body at its opponent in a massive whip, slashing at the wolf with its flaming antennae. Zacian recoils, snarling, but Victor knows it won’t go down that easily—a Legendary Pokémon is more than strong enough to take a single super-effective hit.

“Are you ready, Victor?” Hop calls. “Use Wild Charge, Zacian!”

Jerking its head, Zacian uses its blade to toss Centiskorch off to the side. It lands on the ground, stunned only momentarily. In that instant the Legendary is upon it. Zacian’s entire blue body crackles with fierce, bright yellow electric energy as it hurls itself recklessly at the other Pokémon.

Victor holds his breath. The unmatched offensive power of Galar’s blade-wielding guardian… boosted to even greater heights by using Swords Dance…

Centiskorch screeches as it takes the impact, its spindly body convulsing. The force of the attack knocks it a short distance across the forest clearing, sending up a small cloud of dust when it lands.

A moment passes. Then the insectoid Pokémon raises its head weakly off the ground, its eyes barely open, its antennae still burning. It has, just barely, held on.

Victor opens his mouth, ready to order a counterattack. Then he freezes, the words dying away in his throat.

On the other side of the clearing, Zacian shakes its head as if confused. Traces of the electricity generated in its attack fizzle around its body. It pauses, standing almost entirely still, for a few seconds.

Then it lets out a sigh and keels over onto its side, the sword dropping loosely out of its mouth.

Still feverish with the heat of battle, it takes Victor a few moments longer to process what’s happened. The Legendary Pokémon has knocked itself out with the force of its own reckless attack.

Slowly, Victor moves his gaze up from the wolf’s unconscious body, meeting Hop’s eyes across the clearing.

They burst out laughing at the exact same time.

A minute later, after they’ve had time to recall their Pokémon and wind down from the intensity of the battle, Hop walks up to him, a casual smile on his face.

“That’s our Champion for you!” he says. “You really are strong, Victor.”

For what feels like the fiftieth time that day, Victor blushes. “It was close, at the end, with that last attack,” he responds automatically. It dawns on him that it’s become a reflex for him to be modest—especially with Hop.

His friend waves dismissively. “It was close, it wasn’t close, whatever—you _won_. Just take the praise, mate.”

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m rubbing it in,” Victor protests. “I know beating me—I know being _Champion_ was your dream.”

Hop purses his lips. “Yeah. About that.” He turns slightly to the side and gazes into the quiet of the nighttime forest. “I think… I think I’ve found a new dream.”

“You have?” Victor’s surprise is genuine. Winning the League, beating Leon, becoming the Champion—those desires have all been part of Hop for as long as he can remember.

Hop is silent for several heartbeats. When he speaks, he seems to be choosing his words carefully. “When we were running around to all the stadiums today, helping the Pokémon that were out of control… and then, here, when I was able to help Zacian… I liked that. I _really_ liked that.” He’s still staring out to the side. “I think… I want to be someone who knows how to help Pokémon, no matter what kind, no matter where they are.” He takes one last deep breath and then seems to force the last part out. “I think I want to become a Pokémon Professor.”

Victor doesn’t respond right away, trying to make sure he’s understood right. Hop seems to take this as an indicator to go on. “I’ve already asked Sonia, and she’s offered for me to become her new assistant. I know I don’t know enough about Pokémon yet, and I’ve got no experience for this sort of thing, but I’m going to study. I’m going to learn as much as I can.” Each word seems to cost him. “And someday… I’ll become the sort of professor you would be proud to know, Victor.”

I’m proud to know you now, Victor wants to say. But that would sound like he's telling Hop he shouldn’t go ahead with this, and that’s not what he means at all.

Hop turns straight towards him again, and Victor realizes his friend’s eyes are filling up. He’s shaking, too.

As Hop opens his mouth again, Victor feels the quiet set in. He feels the air around them thicken and the stars overhead brighten. He feels the nighttime chill on his skin and Hop’s warm breath on his face contrasting it. He sees as deep into Hop’s golden eyes as he ever has before, and feels the stillness of the moment reflected in them.

“It’s—it’s a different path than the one you’re on, Victor.” The tears are dangerously close to spilling out of Hop’s eyes. “But… it would mean everything to me if you had my back.”

Still trembling, Hop reaches out his hand. “Even if our goals are different now… I’ll always, always think of you as my true riv—”

Victor kisses him.

He wraps his right hand around Hop’s back and pulls him in close. He moves his left hand up past Hop’s perfect, perfect face and holds it there, resting against the back of his head. He draws Hop’s lips to his own and presses them together, kissing Hop as deeply, as lovingly as he can. He feels Hop’s arms grab at his waist and head, too, and now they’re kissing each other, melting into each other like Victor has only dreamed of. Because he _has_ dreamed of it, he realizes, he’s always dreamed of it, he just didn’t have the words to say what he felt.

They pull their heads apart, breathing heavily, their faces flushed as red as they’ve ever been. Victor is still clutching Hop like he never plans to let go, and Hop is clinging on to him in just the same way.

“I love you,” Victor gasps, the words exploding out of his mouth like they’d been demanding to be set free for years. “I love you, Hop, everything about you. I love the way you always know how to cheer me up, I love the way you set your eyes on a goal and never stop talking about it, I love the way that you keep me on my toes when we battle. I love your eyes and your _smile_ , god I love the way that you have the biggest smile in the whole damn world—” He chokes, his hands still clawing desperately at Hop’s jacket. “I think you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, the most amazing person I’ve ever saved the world with, and I think—I _know_ that if you want to become a Pokémon Professor then you’ll do a bang-up job, you’ll pass Sonia in no time. But—” He narrows his eyes, just now noticing with surprise that there are tears leaking out of them too. “But don’t you _dare_ stop battling me, no matter how busy you get, no matter how many papers you have to write. I want to see you challenge me in the Champion Cup again someday, so you’d better not stop training just because—”

This time Hop is the one who cuts Victor off.

This time, when Hop smashes their lips together, it’s even more passionate, though Victor doesn’t know how that’s possible. Hop _smushes_ him, smushes Victor’s back into his own chest, smushes his lips into oblivion, grabs Victor’s hand with his own and squeezes that to death. Victor locks his fingers into Hop’s as tightly and perfectly as he can and lets the moment stretch out forever. He can smell Hop’s sweat from the battle, has to resist the urge to laugh as Hop lets go of his back and runs his fingers through Victor’s hair, drinks in every ounce of Hop that he possibly can. And when Hop opens his lips and, gently, coaxes his tongue into Victor’s mouth, Victor hesitates for only a second before responding in kind. The forest falls away around them; all that exists is him and Hop. Hop is _there_ , he is so completely there, and Victor is there with him.

This time Victor honestly _doesn’t_ know how long it lasts before their heads break apart again. He has to resist diving back in straight away; he wants more, more, _so_ much more of Hop than he can possibly stand.

Hop brushes his thumb over Victor’s mouth. “I love you too,” he says, impossibly softly. “I love how kind and sensitive you are. I love that you’re—”

But Victor thinks he might die of embarrassment if Hop says even a fraction of what he wants to. “Please don’t,” he begs, his voice a horrifyingly pitiful squeak. “I don’t think I can stand it.”

Hop’s golden gaze is as gentle as can be, and his hand squeezing Victor’s is the same. “Victor,” he says, warmth flowing through his words. “I _love_ you.”

Victor thinks about it, very seriously, for several seconds. Then… “Fine,” he grumbles.

Hop beams. “I love that you’re the strongest trainer I’ve ever fought but you never brag about it. I love that you always try to tell me what I did right in a battle, instead of what I did wrong. I love how brave and powerful and soft and honest you are.” His hand strokes Victor’s cheek. “I love your soft brown hair and your insanely cute face—” Victor squeaks and closes his eyes. “—and the way you get nervous when someone compliments you. I love the way that you make me feel like there’s nothing I can’t do. I _know_ that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” He moves his hand back to Victor’s back and rubs gently again. “And I’ll battle you every day for the rest of my life, if that’s what you want. And one of these days I _will_ beat you.”

Victor manages to get his eyes to open again, and when he does, Hop is still there, holding him.

“God,” Victor whispers. “What do we do now?”

Hop releases his grip, just a little. “What do you want to do?”

Victor slackens his hold, too, and they begin to drop the embrace, their passion spent for the moment. “I… I guess…” He feels his eyes light up as he suddenly gets the idea. “Let’s head out to the Wild Area! We can catch some new Pokémon for your studies!”

Hop laughs, his perfect massive grin returning. “What? Vic, that’s something we’d do _normally_ , as friends!”

“So?” Victor teases him. “Why’s that matter?”

“ _So_ everything’s different now!” Hop exclaims.

Victor takes both of Hop’s hands in his own and leans in close. “No, it’s not, Hop. I’ve always loved you. I just didn’t know it.” He presses one more kiss to Hop’s lips—brief, but hungry, meaningful in every way, a promise of things to come. “You and me can do whatever we want, as long as we’re together.”

He draws fully back, letting go of Hop’s left hand but keeping hold of his right, tugging him along, back down the path to Postwick. He smirks. “And I’m _never_ letting you beat me.”

They run home together, holding tight to each other the whole time.

**Author's Note:**

> They're so fucking gay holy shit
> 
> A few more notes on game accuracy:  
> * I used the actual in-game dialogue where possible, but changed it in places where it just didn't work well in writing. A few of the gayest lines in this are straight out of game dialogue, including Hop's "So amazing, maybe, that I don’t even realize just how amazing you really are!" It's just not subtle, man.  
> * The other Pokémon I used in the game had nicknames, not just Henrietta, but I didn't include them as they weren't significant enough to add to the story.  
> * Obviously the player can't start with a Wooloo as their first Pokémon, but I caught one right away and immediately ditched my starter, so I felt it was fair for me to tell the story like this. Accordingly, the first battle with Hop in Postwick, when the player and Hop get their starters, was removed.  
> * I included a mention of the Centiskorch-themed polo shirt because I wore it for most of the game and liked it.  
> * The battle against Eternatus didn't actually start off with other Pokémon before switching to the two Dubwool after the wolves showed up; the Dubwool were out from the start. I changed this simply for dramatic purposes, and because the Dubwool being there for the final phase of the fight was the only part that actually mattered. Fighting the apocalypse monster alongside the Legendary beasts with both me and Hop using our Dubwool is one of my favorite moments in any Pokémon game.  
> * The Leon battle is depicted *exactly* as it happened. I thought Arctovish would get the kill, Charizard held on with the tiniest possible sliver of its health bar—quite possibly at literally 1 HP—and everything just fit perfectly with Henrietta taking a hit and pulling out the win.  
> * The final battle with Hop is also represented totally faithfully. A +3 Wild Charge from Zacian brought Centiskorch into the red, but the recoil from that, added onto the damage from Fire Lash, knocked it out.  
> * The biggest story change from the games is that Sonia normally is with the player and Hop the entire time during their final battle and conversation, and after Hop declares he wants to become a Professor, Piers, Leon, Sordward, and Shielbert show up and talk for a few minutes before leaving. I cut their entire scene and removed Sonia because this was the point where I knew the two of them had to be alone.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
